The Heaviness Settles

Posted on Fri Jan 14th, 2022 @ 4:59pm by Game Master
Edited on on Fri Jul 5th, 2024 @ 4:12pm

3,464 words; about a 17 minute read

Mission: Interdimensional Archives
Location: Federation Worlds territory (hostile territory)
Timeline: Day 7

Day 7

Systems Alliance Sergeant Jeremiah Corvus stood by the racks on the port side of the shrike class attack craft. He opened the storage space under the top rack and stared at the meager contents found there. It was the rack that his teammate and friend Braxion had claimed when they set out on the mission. It was supposed to be a quick reconnaissance and information gathering detail but as they approached the station they all realized it was much, much more than that. And much deadlier. It wasn’t until they were aboard the station and obtained the data regarding it that they realized just how dangerous the station was.

Which meant it had to be destroyed. Hannah glanced toward the back armory compartment while he rubbed at his face, trying to keep the emotion from overcoming him. He’d served with Captain Bran for years now and knew the officer wouldn’t be happy to see his subordinate unable to maintain the professional detachment he expected of his troops. He couldn’t help that grief for his fallen comrade continued to overwhelm him at times even seven days later.

That’s why it took him so long to get to the point where he could face cataloging the personal effects Sergeant Braxion left behind. There wasn’t much. None of them carried much more than the necessities with them on missions. The storage area located just under Braxion’s mattress contained a spare uniform, several pairs of socks and underwear - Braxion preferred boxer briefs. His PaDD that he kept from their time on the Atlantic was there. It didn’t connect with the Systems Alliance computer system - they had their issued Flexies for that - but it still contained personal data and information on it. Including messages from home, photographic images important to Braxion of his family, friends, events and the cat he left behind when he was transferred to the Atlantic. Hannah knew he also carried a St. Michael medallion given to him when he graduated basic. It was his grandfather’s and was probably Braxion’s most cherished possession. Hannah was unable to find it and somehow it was a small comfort to think Braxion had it on him when…

He shook his head, quickly rubbing his face again as he heard Talrian lurching from the back. The captain insisted that he would prepare their evening meal rather than let Hannah do it again. He claimed he needed to carry some of the weight of the chores despite his leg worsening. Hannah wanted to argue but didn’t for two reasons: one, it wouldn’t work out since his unit commander was an officer and two, it gave him some private time to take care of Braxion’s personal effects. Hannah was better at making the ration packs better than their actual contents, but the captain wasn’t a slouch in that area.

“Everything okay?” Talrian asked as he shuffled into the crew area of the craft, precariously balancing the tray of food and drink while he hobbled his way to the table.

“Fine,” Hannah answered after clearing his throat to make sure any emotion he felt wouldn’t be heard by the captain. He shook his head as he spotted something under the spare uniform and took it out. “He was holding out on us,” the medic said as he pulled out several chocolate bars. He put them back on the spare uniform. He didn’t recall what desserts came in the ration packs they’d pulled for this meal, but the idea of some sweet, silky dark chocolate was far more appetizing than whatever was in the ration packs.

“Not surprising though, he always had a sweet tooth,” Talrian said. He also thought some chocolate would make a nice finish to their meal. No matter what he or Hannah did to make the ration pack meals better, he was growing tired of the limited variety of choice for meals. He wasn’t a huge fan of sweets but just the idea of some chocolate was tempting. He almost told Hannah to bring them to the table when the medic put them back into the storage cubby but, considering that Hannah was grieving their comrades once again, he didn’t want to push the issue. Also, it was the last effects of the sergeant and Talrian respected that sanctity.

He set the tray on the table and labored to move around to the bench he normally occupied. His leg felt swollen and stiff which made it more difficult to get around, but he was still trying. And, by taking on the responsibility of making this meal, it gave him a chance to be alone. He admired Hannah’s ability to compartmentalize what they’d gone through and how they lost the two members of their unit. There were times when he had to pretend to be worn out and lie on his rack or find some task that he had to do by himself in order to deal with his own sense of loss. Since being joined with the symbiont, he found his emotions were more strictly controlled but he also cared deeper about those under his command. Which meant losing them hit him hard but he had to maintain a stoic detachment. It would be better if they were back at their assigned duty station so he would have time to be away from his unit and could grieve properly. As it was, with each passing day further depleting their fuel supply, their demise would come before he had a chance to fully and completely process his grief.

Hannah sat opposite him and put several pills onto the tray in front of Talrian. Talrian only stared at them then let out a breath. Hannah was giving him the pain medication so that it had the time they ate and cleaned up to take full effect. Then Hannah was going to remove the splint and bandages to get another full look at his leg. He also told Talrian he had to try to reset the ankle again. Which he worried was going to be incredibly painful. To the point he insisted Talrian take the stronger medication rather than just the mild analgesic Talrian reluctantly agreed to continue taking.

Talrian once again refused but, much like the temptation of the newly discovered chocolate bars, he was sorely tempted to give in on this matter. Instead he scooped up the pills and swallowed them before eating.

Forty minutes later and he sat propped up on his rack. Hannah sat on the bench next to him, his med kit opened and several tools and supplies laid out in front of the tray of washed and dried dishes. All he’d done so far was position Talrian’s leg and begin removing the double pair of socks the medic made Talrian wear to help warm his feet. Hannah just started on the straps holding the salvaged metal struts pressed into new life as splints for the broken bones in Talrian’s leg. But already the Trill was gripping his bedding until his knuckles turned white. He clenched his jaw to keep from crying out.

“You studied history, right, Captain?” Hannah asked as he worked as gently as he could. If the Trill wasn’t so damned stubborn and would take the stronger pain meds, he’d look less ashen and like he was ready to pass out at any moment.

“Talrian did,” the captain answered. Hannah often forgot that the Trill’s Joining was imperfect. It was an issue Talrian was trying to get help for when they were pulled into this universe. Here Trill didn’t Join with symbionts so there wasn’t to be had on the issue. “Bran was near to receiving a doctorate in philosophy. He just submitted his thesis shortly before the host died.” Talrian spoke through gritted teeth, resisting the urge to snap at the medic for the nonsense of the question at the moment. He knew it was his pain reacting more than anything else.

“What is it like to have lived more than one life?” Hannah asked.

“What? Talrian asked, glaring at the medic. Hannah seemed blissfully unaware of the patient’s ire.

“From the Joining. You remember all the other lifetimes, right?,” Hannah continued, only giving brief glances to Talrian’s face while he continued to work.

“I don’t-” Talrian said then sucked in a breath as Hannah pulled the metal bar used as the interior splint away from his leg. He set both on the table to be reused later. The bandages he wadded into a ball and dropped into a pile. Later he would put them through his makeshift airlock and let them be sucked into the empty cold of space.

“I thought Joined Trill remember all their past lives?” Hannah continued. He continued to take quick glances at Talrian’s face while he worked. If for nothing else than to gauge the pain level the captain was experiencing. He tried to adjust his ministrations accordingly, but he couldn’t avoid it altogether unless the Trill agreed to stronger medication.

“I’m imperfectly Joined,” Talrian reminded the young medic. It was a very rare condition among Joined Trill. So rare that the Caretakers and other Commision ‘experts’ still argued if it was a biological or psychological condition. Because of this universe’s Trill populace’s rise up against the Commission and the cultural revolution that went against Joining, Talrian had no hope of getting help for the condition since they arrived.

“That’s right.,” Hannah continued working while he spoke. “How are you different from a Joined Trill?” Hannah shifted on the bench. He told Talrian it was time to remove his pants so he could remove the bandages and visually inspect the leg. Both of them knew the antibiotics weren’t working as well as they’d wanted. The infection in the tissue was getting worse. Talrian only nodded then unbuckled his belt and undid the fastener. Hannah helped him to get the pants off and folded them onto the table on top of the splints.

“What does it matter?” Talrian asked, staring at the underside of the top rack, his tone harsh and gritted.

“I’ve been curious about what it means to be Joined for a while. I mean, it’s such a foreign concept to humans, to merge with another creature..” Hannah said as he began removing the bandages.

Talrian turned his gaze to the young sergeant, in order to keep from looking at his ruined leg. “During Joining, the host and symbiont become one personality. In essence, a new person is created that combines the experiences of both,” Talrian said slowly, some of the words had to be spit out in between gasps.. Despite the pain muddling his thinking, he realized what Hannah was doing. He’d seen the medic employ this tactic prior. He was trying to do what he could to distract his patient, in this case Talrian himself, from their injuries just by talking to them about something completely unrelated to the injuries. Sometimes the medic would ask a bunch of questions about the patient’s childhood or family or some other topic.

Hannah smiled at Talrain’s answer. He looked over the captain for several long moments. He started to offer the stronger medication again but knew the captain would refuse them. Again. “Kind of like that transporter accident that fused those two Voyager crewmembers?”

“Almost,” Talrian said, wanting to shift positions to lie down fully but refrained from doing so. His hands were still buried deep into the blankets, the veins on his forearms standing out starkly against the flesh. “Unlike that, though, the two of us remain separate biological entities that are tied together through the nervous system and what is necessary to sustain the symbiont.”

Hannah shook his head but worked to keep his expression neutral. He would still perform a medical scan with his portable equipment but he could tell the infection was worse. “You often refer to yourself as plural. I haven’t met a lot of Joined Trill, but they usually only refer to themselves as a single being, right?” He made up a syringe of a different antibiotic.

“Yes,” Talrian answered. “That’s a Joining done properly and perfectly. We’re imperfectly Joined. It’s…difficult to explain.” Talrian kept his focus either on the sergeant or the bulkhead. He had glimpses of the swollen, discolored flesh of his leg and didn’t want to really see more than he had to see. He swallowed hard, his throat drying.

Hannah did something and Talrian squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw to keep from crying out. Much like the need to process his grief over the two killed team members, he felt he had to show strength and willpower here, to keep Hannah from believing he was in incredible pain. But he wanted to talk about his condition - whether it be biological or psychological - now to help distract himself. He knew what Hannah was doing was necessary and he just wanted it finished.

“There are times when we feel like one mind, one being. At those times..I have the memories and experiences of both and that’s what they seem like. But other times, I have two people in my head. Two voices, two lives, two separate experiences. We’ve gotten better about fighting for dominance but there’s always the struggle. At those times, we’re very much aware of how separate we are.”
“But, does Bran know what you know?” Hannah asked as he worked to quickly finish debriding the wounds of crusted pus and infectious discharges.

“We both know what the other knows. We’ve just never completely joined into a single consciousness.”

Hannah set his tools down and put his hands on his knees. He turned to face Talrian directly. Captain,” he said, sighing. “I need to manipulate your foot. Try to correct it to a better position. Hopefully it’ll increase blood flow to your foot. But-”

“No,” Talrian hissed. “No. If you can give me something to block the pain but doesn’t put me out or is narcotic, then okay. If not, then no.” Talrian found himself hopeful the medic would surprise him and tell him he had more numbing agents. But he was sure Hannah said they’d used the last of the local anesthetic a couple days ago.

Hannah shook his head. “The amount of pain this is going to cause, it’s unnecessary inflicting it on you.”

“No,” Talrian repeated. He found it ironic considering how he asked to be put into a coma. Hannah argued against doing that. It seemed petulant now to refuse any medication that would
alter his consciousness now. The problem was previous alcohol abuse in his previous host’s past which led to some very dark places. Talrian wanted to avoid the possibility of ingesting substances that could become addictive. Except, he swallowed hard as he stared at the medic. “Do you have to,” he stopped and swallowed again then gave a slight nod. “But only this time. Just because,” he glanced down at the blackened foot at the end of his leg. He wanted this to be over with so that he could cover it up again and pretend the limb wasn’t dying.

Corvus gave a shallow nod and reached into his bag to pull out a smaller black, zippered pouch. He pulled out a small ampoule with a dart tip. He injected it quickly, before Talrian could change his mind and refuse it again. “I’m going to give it a couple minutes. Is the meshing of the two, the symbiont and host, normally an automatic thing?”

Talrian tried to relax but found it difficult. He was unconscious the last time Corvus moved his foot and ankle around so didn’t have a reference. But he considered the last week and the near constant pain he’d lived since his leg was injured. “Generally, imperfect joining tends to happen when both symbiont and host resist the joining in the bonding period.”

Jeremy moved to the end of the bench which coincided with the edge of the rack. As he positioned his hands on the hot, swollen flesh of Talrian’s lower leg and foot, he tried to block out the sound of the captain’s harsh and sudden intake of breath. He expected the sudden resistance and the autonomic jerk pulling away.

“Try to relax,” Jeremy said but then performed the twist on the foot and ankle. For just a split moment he heard the grinding of bones before the near silence of the crew quarters was shattered by Talrian’s scream. Talrian continued until his voice broke but then started again after a deep, gasping breath.

“Stop, please, stop!” Talrian said, his fingers digging into the blankets tight enough that his hands spasmed with the fingers closing. Cords and veins stood in stark contrast to the flesh of his neck while his face turned ashen and covered in sweat.

The pleading tore through Jeremy but he’d been a combat medic long enough that he was able to continue working. In fact, he believed finishing what he started was kinder. The pain was already inflicted and stopping now would only inflict it from the start again. He worked rapidly though, not wanting to prolong the suffering any longer than necessary. It took a few minutes, wherein Talrian mercifully stopped screaming, but repeatedly told Jeremy he wanted him to stop. Several small metal rods and tightly wrapped bandages later, Jeremy sat up and moved to the bench roughly equal to Talrian’s torso.

“That’s it, that part’s done,” Jeremy said. He was surprised when Talrian reached out and grabbed his wrist. The grip was tight and hot but nowhere near as feverish as the look in Talrian’s eyes.

“Not more, please, don’t, I can’t…no more,” the Trill said, his voice hoarse and rough.

“Okay, okay, Captain,” Jeremy said, letting out a long breath as he worked to break the grip on his wrist. He was sure it would leave behind a pattern of reddened fingerprints for some time to come, if not actual bruising. “I’ll give it a bit before we put the splint back on. But I want to monitor your foot to make sure this” was worth it was his thought but he stopped himself from saying that. “To make sure this worked.”

Talrian’s gaze turned away from him and Jeremy found himself glad of it. He broke his captain’s grip on his wrist and leaned back. He hated to see anyone in this kind of condition - this kind of pain - but more so the man he’d served with for so long and respected. He hated to see his captain brought so low to be begging for an end to pain and suffering. Not that Talrian lost any of his respect or sense of worth. It also didn’t surprise the young medic that the man endured all this without a loss of consciousness as the pain ripped through his psyche. He expected no less from his CO and his indominant will ever since Hannah first met him. Those years ago, when Hannah first came aboard the Atlantic and reported to Talrian, he’d maintained a sort of shocked and fearful reverence for the man.

Serving with him still through the last six years only removed some of the fear but only served to increase his reverence. “I’m going to give you a bit more pain medication, okay?” he whispered. Talrian only nodded. Jeremy reached into the black pouch. He pulled out a second ampoule, then a third. He wasn’t lying, he intended to give the captain a bit more pain mediation. But he also wanted to give him a sedative. Help Talrian sleep for a few hours, by which time Jeremy would have finished rebinding the leg and, hopefully, most of the residual pain from today’s procedure will have waned.

Plus it would give Jeremy a few hours by himself. He wasn’t sure why but the losses he’d suffered were settling heavy around him.

Jeremy looked up suddenly as he heard Talrian’s croaking voice. “Thank you,” the Trill said again. But Jeremy saw him looking at the two injections Jeremy pulled out. Talrian turned away again and Jeremy only nodded back then injected both medications into Talrian’s upper arm.

 

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